


Always Bet on Black

by BlueThorne



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dark Humor, Gen, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 01:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueThorne/pseuds/BlueThorne
Summary: Dante and Nero play a friendly game of Russian roulette.Written for DMC Gen Week





	Always Bet on Black

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this drabble idea in my head for a long time, and it's a very odd one, so I never had any real excuse to write it until now.

Nero was pretty sure no cheap delivery place would have cut a pizza into an uneven amount of slices. That required a bizarre amount of extra work.

No, the reality of the situation was that Dante must have eaten an extra slice while Nero wasn’t looking. The bastard could inhale food so fast that he couldn’t have had time to chew. 

Whatever the case, the box lay open in front of them with one slice remaining.

“We could flip a coin for it,” Dante said, his grin already assured of his victory.

Scowling, Nero kicked his foot over the coffee table and crushed his heel down on the lid of the box to shut it. He didn’t care if he squished the pizza. It was edible either way. “No way in hell. I already know you’re a liar and a cheat. That’s how we ended up this way in the first place. Just let me eat it. I paid for it this time, you know.”

“And I paid for it the last three times.”

Nero huffed a breath through his nose like a bull ready to charge. But Dante was right, if only because he was the one who insisted on having pizza almost every night. “It can’t be a coin flip,” Nero decided. “You’d cheat.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit by suggesting I'd know how to do that, but I appreciate it,” Dante said through a laugh, his hands raised in surrender. “Alright, what’s a more fair game?”

“Pool.”

“You just say that because I’d lose.”

Nero nodded.

With a hum, Dante threaded his fingers behind his head and let his eyes wander the room. “I think we should leave this one to luck instead of skill. Otherwise, you know we’ll end up duking it out outside within an hour, and the neighbors are already sick enough of me.”

“You just know I'd kick your ass.” The longer this went on, the less Nero cared about the pizza under his boot and the more he just wanted to see Dante lose. “But fine. Whatever. Pick something.”

Dante’s eyes caught a gleam as they settled on the wall which held their most trusted weapons. “I’ve got it.” 

Under Nero’s confused stare, he hopped to his feet and darted to the resting swords and guns. 

“I thought we weren’t going to fight.”

“We’re not.” 

An involuntary twitch hit Nero’s eye at the sight of Dante grabbing Blue Rose,  _ his  _ Blue Rose. He’d put endless hours of work and polish into that gun. Dante might have tossed his pistols around like toys, but if he tried that with Blue Rose, Nero would see fit that he lost a few pieces here and there. 

Nero’s eyes raked over Dante with all the warnings and malice that Dante was content to ignore. “Don’t see many revolvers these days, so I haven’t gotten to play in a while.” Flicking open the cylinder, he placed his thumb over one cartridge before tilting the gun back to let the rest of the bullets fall to the floor. They hit the hardwood with hollow pings. 

“Russian roulette?” Nero drawled as Dante bounded back up to him. “Really?”

“Really!” Dante’s grin was so broad that Nero wondered if he’d planned this all along. No one should have looked that excited to play a suicide game. 

“That sounds fun and all, but unlike you, I’m not sure I’d come back from a bullet to the head. And Blue Rose fires two.”

“You can shoot at your foot or something,” Dante said, waving off Nero’s words like pesky flies. “And since you’re so worried about me cheating, I’ll let you spin and decide who goes first.” 

Nero rolled his eyes even as he snatched the gun from Dante’s hands. “You don’t have to make the idea of seeing you shoot your brains out so appealing.”

“It’s nice of you to suggest I have brains.”

With a snort of amusement, Nero spun his gun’s cylinder with practiced ease. It clicked through the cartridges as smoothly as any real roulette wheel until Nero flicked his wrist and halted it in its tracks. “Alright. You first,” he said. 

Dante gave a low whistle. “How do I know you’re not the one cheating me now?”

“You picked the terms. If you try to back out now, I win.” He held out the gun flat on his palm as though offering a dance. His partner accepted, taking the gun, putting it to his temple, and pulling the trigger in one fluid motion. An empty click rang between them. 

“So you didn’t set me up for failure right away,” Dante said. “I appreciate you letting the tension build.”

“Just so we’re clear, I didn’t stop it in any particular place. If I’m going to win a game of luck, I’m going to win it properly.” When Dante offered him the gun, Nero made the same quick work of aiming at his own foot, perched atop the pizza box, and pulling the trigger. Another empty click followed. Nero wondered if he was imagining hearing Dante release a held breath. 

“Make sure you don’t blow off part of your foot, alright? Your healing only does so much.”

“I know how to use my own gun.”

“Yeah-yeah, I know. I’ve seen how you like to show off.” 

Unfortunately, no shot rang out on Dante’s next turn, and Nero’s foot remained in-tact on his turn as well. Dante definitely breathed a sigh of relief that time, and Nero had to fight back a smirk. The old man was getting cold feet. 

“Not too late to admit defeat,” Nero said.

“And give up my fifty-fifty shot? Those are the best odds I’ve had in a while.” The smirk never left his face as he placed the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. The fifth empty cartridge clicked. “See? Not bad odds.”

“Yeah,” Nero said with a sigh, accepting the gun that Dante returned to his hands. “Guess it’s my turn then.”

“Kid, you don’t have to-”

“No, it’s my turn.”

“You really don’t-”

“We haven’t finished the game. I told you I play things properly.”

“Look, I was really just kidding about all this. I didn’t think you’d-”

Raising the barrel to his temple, Nero heard Dante choke on his words just before the trigger clicked. Dante’s eyes were wide with panic, his skin the same color as his hair, but as seconds of silence ticked by, his terror gave way to confusion. “What?” he wheezed more than said. “Did you… take the bullets out?”

With a hissed sigh, Nero dropped his chin to his chest. “There were never any bullets, Dante. The gun wasn’t loaded.” Flicking the cylinder open, two hollow gold cases dropped into his open palm. “They were all empty casings. I just hadn’t taken them out yet. I don’t ever leave a loaded gun lying around.”

“Oh.” Dante blinked. “It’s been so long since I used real bullets. I forgot about that.”

“As if I’d be dumb enough to ever shoot myself in the foot. Not even for pizza.” Pulling a new round of bullets from his pocket, he held them up. “See? These are Blue’s ammo.” He slid them into the cylinder and knocked it into place. “This is what they look like loaded.” Without looking, Nero held the barrel up between Dante’s eyes and pulled the trigger. An ear-splitting shot rang out, and Dante’s head snapped back. 

“That’s what it looks like when it fires a live round,” Nero concluded. “Looks like I win.” 

“Ow, harsh,” Dante hissed, holding his hand over his wound as his skull mended itself. “I think that was unnecessary.”

With the last slice of pizza in-hand, Nero sat back on the couch and kicked both feet up on the coffee table. “Don’t be such a sore loser. Next time pick a game you’re better at. You know you always have shit luck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shrugs loudly.


End file.
